Changing Fate's Design
by APenName
Summary: Whilst still at Camp Half-Blood Luke Castellan realises he is falling for Annabeth Chase. As romance tentatively blossoms and both demigods re-discover old friends in new ways, will they still choose to make the same choices in life? Is new arrival Percy Jackson an enemy or ally? Can anyone actually change their fate? Or is Luke doomed to fulfil the Great Prophecy?
1. The Duel

The Red Team's Flag is planted firmly in the loose gravel on a secluded islet carved out by a shallow stream. Invitingly accessible, temptingly undefended. She watches it intently from behind a thin screen of bushes, twigs, branches and leaves. Her breathing is calm and collected, deep and even. Where many newcomers expand energy fidgeting about straining to hear the battle over the hill, she is calm.

_You are part of the forest_; she reminds herself, _the birds sing because you are part of this place. You are part of the earth, the rock, the stream_.

And because she is so attuned, so at peace in her surroundings, she hears immediately when the birds change the tune of their song as the intruder comes over the rise beyond, the clinking of loose gravel and shale underfoot as he approaches the stream. Instantly her senses come alive, adrenalin starts to run as she assesses her opponent. She smiles as she sees a familiar mess of dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Luke. The Blue Team Leader himself. Like her, he wears a leather and bronze breastplate, greaves and carries a sword. Somewhere along the way he has lost his blue-plumed helm and his shield. His hair is sweaty and dishevelled, his face streaked with dirt; no doubt thanks to her teammates who would have met him on the way here. Kudos to him for getting through her rear-guard. He most likely wasn't alone though, she can still hear sounds of steel and shouting distantly through the trees. Even though the sounds of the battle behind him are faintly audible, pursuers might catch up at any point he is cautious. He pauses at the edge of the stream, catching his breath and his focus before crossing. A pity it isn't that naïve newcomer, what's-his-name Percy or something like that. He would no doubt have charged across the stream immediately and she could have disarmed him on the stream's edge while he was still hampered by the water and made clumsy by the unfamiliar weight of his armour. No Luke is far too wary for that. He is a Veteran of this game, her Camp Commander and one of the most skilled fighters at Camp Half-blood.

_She can still take him though. _

He is tired and she is entirely fresh, nerves humming with energy and anticipation. He wades across slowly, each step firmly planted and his sword arm outstretched in case of an attack while he's crossing, something he clearly expects. No, she decides. She will let him cross fully, to meet in fair combat which she WILL win with so that he has no excuses later.

He steps out of the water, eyes still constantly glancing around for defenders. And then he simply stands there.

"Come on out Annabeth! I know you're hiding back there. A daughter of Athena would never leave your flag undefended and I know it's you!"

Unsure whether to laugh or grimace in chagrin, she asks herself-

_Is she really that predictable_?

Of course Luke, who found her when she was seven, and has been a lifelong friend and protector, knows her better than anyone else in the world. But in the real world beyond Camp Half-blood, the world of Gods, monsters and men, predictability can mean death. She composes her features before stepping out into the open.

_No need to let him know he's already flustered her._

He smiles as he is proved right. A slight upturning of his lips as he readies himself, sword loosely held to the side.

She walks up to him before stopping two arms lengths away. Deliberately, she unbuckles her helmet, flinging it to the side, all the while looking at him unblinkingly. Her shield follows it, landing with a clatter on the gravel. This will be a fair fight.

"How did you know I was there?"

Involuntarily, the question on her mind is rolling off her tongue. She bites her lip, willing herself to be in control of herself. _You are calm. You are the forest. Protect the Flag._

"I knew you would leave someone to guard it. I knew you'd be the one and on your own because you'd never let anyone talk sense into you. Remember when I first found you and you almost brained me with a hammer?"

Startled out of her seriousness despite herself, she laughs at the memory of her seven year old self and her stubbornness.

"And then you gave me your knife. You said I could learn to defend myself better with that than a hammer."

"You were always brave. We all had to be."

His smile as he looks at her is caring and affection. But it is still undeniably indulgent and condescending for all that. The kind of sentimental smile a parents gives a child or an older brother a younger sibling. Her guardian, her protector, but today her enemy. If Luke has any weakness it's underestimating others, being too self-satisfied, too proud and unwilling to bend. Today, she will show him what she's made of.

"Well maybe you'll regret teaching me now."

At that he laughs out loud and his mischievous smirk is back on his lips and in his eyes.

"Perhaps, you bloodthirsty cub. But I don't think so"

With that, he lunges in for the attack without warning, just as she knew he would. Right-handed, he strikes at her open left flank only to be met by her blade as she blocks him with jarring force. Immediately, they both disengage, already looking for the next opening.

_This is the dance she knows._

He parries her answering blow and slashes at her chest, she jumps back then swings low, aiming for his knee as his arm is forced to draw back. Parry, block, slash, duck. Her feet and his are never still, fast at times, at others slow and wary; each taking turns initiating and matching pace to the other. She wants to laugh at how synchronised they are, almost like a chirographer waltz as they continually circle each other. She can't help but feel pleasure in the way their bodies flow like silk as they engage and disengage, each looking for a weakness, an undefended opening. With an opponent like Luke, whose panther-like grace and strength is so deadly and yet so beautiful, the fluidity of their coming together and disengaging seems almost like the circling flight of courting birds in the air overhead. This is when she truly feels alive. The sharp rasping and clanging of steel on steel as they twist and turn, their blades sliding on edge, as their blades kiss and weave and menace each other.

_This is a dance of steel and grace that she knows so well. _

After years of training at Camp Half-blood, her instincts take over; muscles remember movements practiced hundreds of times, the brain hones in on what's important- the strike zones of the body, muscles which signal an opponent's next move, before the eye can even process it. The background fades into an incomprehensible blur of sound and colour as the combatant's circle of awareness shrinks to encompass the invisible circle of this duel.

He strikes, a strong downward blow that would cleave her in half if they weren't using blunted practice swords. She catches it above her head on the flat of her blade with a ringing clash, pressing upward with all her strength as he tries to bear down on her with his superior weight. His eyes flicker from surprise to something else as she continues to withstand him. He smiles, ruefully:

"Not bad at all little sister."

"I'm not so little anymore."

She grunts out in reply as she strains to hold her block. Determinedly, _he will NOT get the better of her_; she coils her muscles, tensing for the moment she shoves him back, putting all her strength into it as she pushes his sword away from her. Not expecting this, he stumbles backwards a few paces. The first clumsy move he's made. She presses her advantage, striking at his unprotected arms, his chest, his legs. But lightning fast, he recovers and skips neatly back out of range, his sword out to prevent her advancing.

This time, it is a full, flashing grin which lights up his face.

"Not, a cub after all, but a full-grown lioness."

At the sight of his bright grin, sardonic, admiring and affectionate all at the same time, a flicker of warmth kindles deep in her belly. She doesn't know why she's begun to feel this way lately. She's always known Luke was attractive. Those blasted _**HARPIES **_at Camp Half-blood certainly mooned over him enough for her to see she wasn't the only one who knew it. But before this, she's always been his younger sister, his responsibility. Of course, when she was younger, she had a secret schoolgirl crush on him. But there had been Thalia, her other dearest and oldest friend, the both of them years older than her. Even now, the thought of Thalia and her sacrifice for them to be here today creates a wrenching in her gut. But that was the past, and this is today. And today she must win.

With renewed energy she lunges in again for the attack. Ferociously, she hacks and parries pressing him further back. He is tiring, his reactions slower, letting her close in further, unable to keep her out of close range. If she can get inside his longer sword arm's range she has him. She lunges in again, her sword angled to meet his unprotected neck.

And in that moment Luke makes his move, lightning fast, his sword raps her knuckles, sliding around her blade and disarming her as he flicks his wrist, sending her sword flying before his is at her throat and his body almost against hers.

Gasping for breath, she didn't think even he could be THAT fast, she stares up at him. Suddenly, he seems so close, too close. His blue eyes are alight- _like lightning,_ she thinks to herself; and staring unwaveringly into hers. She is acutely aware of his dirt-streaked cheek, his heaving chest as he too pants for air. She can't read his expression at all; his face is still and oddly intent on hers. Even as he slowly lowers his sword, pulling his arm back and away from her throat he doesn't step back.

"You got over-exited. You let your emotions get the better of you. You saw only what I wanted you to see, not all that you should have."

His voice is low, husky and slightly hoarse. She tries to answer in reply, _yes I know_, but her throat feels strangely constricted, the words freeze on her tongue as she opens her mouth to speak. As if in a trance, she sees his left hand come up to her face, stroking away an errant strand of her hair. His touch is gentle, almost hesitant as his fingers stroke her cheek. There is none of his usual arrogance or self-assuredness. She's never seen him like this, so oddly vulnerable. Is Luke…afraid? The thought of that makes her draw a sharp breath. At the sound of her indrawn breath, his eyes travel from her eyes to her mouth, still slightly ajar, his gaze lingering on her lips. Time seems to freeze as Luke drew closer to her, millimetre by millimetre.

_He's going to kiss me. Luke Castellan is going to kiss me. And I want him to._

The thought rises unbidden, like a flame inside her. She wonders if she should feel shame. But she feels only certainty.

_I want him to kiss me._

Suddenly, there is a clatter of gravel. Instinctively Luke breaks away from her, dropping his hand from her face as if he's been burned as her head snaps around only to see what seems like half the camp descending on the flag.

At the sight of her sword lying on the ground and Luke's still in his hand, the Blue Team break into cheers while the Red team shake their heads and groan in disappointment. She looks back at Luke who is still staring at her. There is a glint of something in his eyes-

_Regret? Frustration?_

Before he turns to acknowledge his team. Slowly, he walks undisputed to the Red Flag still planted in the gravel and yanks it up, lofting it high in one hand to renewed shouts and cheers as both teams swarm the islet, slapping both her and Luke on the shoulder. The new kid looks a bit beat-up she notices, his face is bruised and his sleeves are cut, but Luke nonetheless strides over to clap him on the shoulder. The boy's face lights up as Luke speaks quietly to him, no doubt basking in words of encouragement. Despite his cockiness, Luke is a genuine and caring leader. She wasn't surprised when he was chosen as Camp Commander.

_Did my face use to light up like that when he told me something? _

As if sensing her eyes on him, he looks back over his shoulder at her, and smiles. It has some of his self-satisfaction back in it, the type that makes her want to kick him in the arse, but it's still meaningfully tender and it lights up his eyes with life and hidden mischief the way she's always loved for all those years.

_Loved. _

That silent word jolts her to the core.

_When did the thought go from- I want Luke Castellan, all-around great guy and acknowledged Camp Hottie to kiss me- to I've been in love with this smile for years. Annabeth, daughter of Athena, you're supposed to be descended from a goddess of wisdom and warfare. So act like you have some sense!_

He's my best friend. He thinks of me as a baby sister.

_But he was going to kiss you_

The other voice whispered in her head. Unable to bear another moment of self-torment, she bends down to pick up her sword, self-consciously brushing her hair back from her face as she rises. But this simple gesture reminds her of his hand in her hair, his fingers on her cheek.

_What might have happened between them if nobody had interrupted them? _

The thought is enough to put a burn in her cheeks, face flaming she trudges back to camp and a hot bath, all too aware of the other team's celebrations ringing in her ears, but unable to shake off the feeling that she's running away from something she can't understand or control. 


	2. The Campfire

Hello! I decided to continue this story instead of leaving it as a one-shot. Anyway, it's slightly AU as I'm fusing aspects of the movie and the books (which are honestly better, it's just that Jake Abel and Alexandra Daddario's characters would make such a great couple) so in this fanfic Annabeth (17), Luke (22) and Percy (16) are slightly older and everything happens later than in the books. **Please do leave a review if you enjoyed reading**! Or even if you didn't, do let me know why. Cheers!

* * *

Luke waited impatiently.

The Friday Night camp-fire had been going on for hours and he still hadn't had a chance to speak to Annabeth. _Where was she?_ Keeping a wary eye on the direction of the Athena cabin, he tried to pretend he was at least listening to the meandering conversation of the guys around him. Various topics of irrepressible interest on offer included the usefulness of swords versus the bow and arrow, girls, the food at camp, girls, Capture the Flag, girls AGAIN. The head counsellor of the Aphrodite Cabin, Selina, cast him a smouldering look over her shoulder as she passed by with a gaggle of beautiful girls from their cabin, leaving his circle of male friends with their mouths open. He returned a half-hearted smile (probably not the reaction she had in mind) but even that was enough for her to give an inviting wink in reply. The huge blazing fire at the centre of camp was surrounded by food, warmth and laughter. But somehow he couldn't lose himself in his fellow camper's fellowship as he used to.

_Am I really that old?_ He thought to himself.

Before, he'd been caught up completely in everything at camp life. He was Head Counsellor of the Hermes Cabin after all, home to all the unclaimed, Hermes' and any other minor god's children, as well as Camp Commander. He enjoyed being a leader, teaching the younger campers swordsmanship which might one day save their lives and earning their respect. But now…all the other campers were young teenagers. He was twenty two and wondering what there was after this. Camp Half-blood was the only real home he'd had in ages, he lived there the whole year round unlike other more fortunate kids who still had homes to go to; but he had a yearning, a frustration, even anger that this was all he could expect from life because he was a demigod. A demigod whose family had been wrecked by a father who left and whose future was dictated by the whims of Gods who didn't care for him.

He could have gone to College, but there was something holding him back…A secret fear. Of that destiny that his mother would rant about when she went into one of her fits that made her drag him out from the broom cupboard he tried to hide in, to face her glowing green eyes and her dire warnings, both of which terrified him. Somehow he felt that if he left the protected boundaries of Camp Half-Blood, that destiny would come find him, hunt him down with glowing green eyes so that the last thing he would hear would be his mother screeching about his death. Somehow, he felt that the only way to avoid his terrible destiny was by becoming a great hero. But that chance never seemed to come, and so he waited on at Camp Half-Blood, waiting for his absent father to show him some sign he hadn't forgotten his promise.

Caught up as he was in his silent musings, it took him a while to realise that Annabeth had indeed appeared at the camp-fire, dressed in figure hugging jeans, a V-necked t-shirt and pink hoodie, and that she was talking to…the newcomer, Percy Jackson?

_Of all people why him?_

Of course he could see that the kid had a crush on Annabeth, he'd run up to her the minute she'd arrived after all. _Much like you were planning to do weren't you Luke?_

**_SHUT UP_**_. _He squashed the small annoying voice. Percy was a mere boy. He was a man and he knew how to play this. Still, Annabeth would never have given even the time of day to campers who mooned about her. He couldn't help grinning; Annabeth was tough, feisty and full of fight. And he couldn't help it; he was just drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, even if it might burn him up.

Now Grover furtively handed both of them goblets filled with some golden liquid. Annabeth sipped, her eyes sparkling over the rim of the goblet as she smirked at something Grover said. Attempting to appear at ease, Percy drank and instantly choked. The illegal mead brewed here was strong and it burned. He had to physically restrain himself from sniggering at the sight. But the sight of those cat-like stormy eyes, lit up by the flames reflecting off the rim of her goblet, was enough to conjure up how she'd looked after their duel earlier that day. When he'd frozen, staring at her face, unable to tear himself away from her closeness. If he'd kissed her…Would she have slapped him? Then gutted him for good measure for his cheek?

But no, he'd seen her face. There'd been surprise and uncertainty for sure; but that had changed as he'd drawn closer and closer to those pink lips, temptingly ajar and flushed from their exertions. In those few moments as he'd slowly closed the gap between them, he could have sworn what was flickering in her eyes wasn't fear or anger but desire.

_For him? Or did she just think of him as an annoying, cocky older brother? _

He had to admit, he'd stopped thinking of her as a baby sister for some time. There'd been a time when he had hoped that Thalia…but no. That was a dream of the past, and made up of teenage fragments of affection that were best left in the past. What he felt for Annabeth was different. Watching her grow up he'd always been proud of her, protective and nurturing. As the two of them eased into life at the protected camp, he saw her opening up to new friends as they both grieved for the one they had lost. Family, he'd promised her. **_Their_** family didn't let each other down, unlike their unsatisfactory godly or human parents. But now, she'd become an amazing woman. And for some time now, when he saw the firelight glinting off those curves, heard her laugh and saw her flick her hair back over her shoulder, his thoughts and that wrenching of his gut were anything but brotherly. He groaned inwardly. This was like fighting a fire. He knew he shouldn't go into the burning building, but he just had to do it.

Now, Grover slapped Percy on the back as the kid sputtered before leading him away to get something less potent. Percy was doing a great imitation of a drowning fish simultaneously overcome with embarrassment. Annabeth laughed in reply and waved them off. Glancing around self-consciously for a while (looking for him perhaps?), she put her cup down on the nearest table, before walking around to the back of the camp-fire. The very deserted back of the camp-fire.

**_NOW, NOW Luke! This was the moment. _**

Steeling himself, he threw back the rest of his goblet's contents, _nothing like a bit of liquid courage after all_, before following her.

His hands felt strangely empty without a sword. Perspiring slightly, he wiped them on his jeans then tucked them in his pockets. Was he really that nervous? Don't be silly, he scolded himself, this isn't a battle. I'm just going to walk up to her like a normal person and talk to her. But-_No,_ said the other voice in his head- _it is and you don't want to lose._

Sitting down on a convenient log at the back of the camp-fire she exhales a sigh of frustration. She's not sure why she even came tonight. She'd sat for hours in the bath, turning over what had happened it the duel with Luke in her mind again and again. By the time she'd _finally _gotten out, dried her hair and gotten dressed the cabin was empty and she knew she'd arrive hours after all of her friends. But she'd still gone. _Not_ because she was hoping to run into Luke and _not _because she was tingling to see if he smiled at her again in that way that seemed to freeze time, not to mention her feet, in place. Instead, she hadn't even been able to glance around for the person she was _not trying to see_ before being accosted by Percy and Grover. She had nothing against the new kid. He seemed nice, genuine and like he had a sense of humour. They'd probably become friends given some time and Grover had been entertaining as usual. No, it hadn't been their fault that she'd wanted to scream with frustration at not being able to look around feely for a certain someone. But by the time they'd left (after Percy had choked on his first taste of Camp Half-Blood's mead illegally brewed by Mr. D, otherwise known as Dionysus, the God of Wine) she'd completely lost her nerve and retreated to the relative safety (safety being calculated by the chances of meeting Luke Castellan) behind the camp-fire.

"Why are you such a coward Annabeth?"

She hissed disgustedly at herself.

"Did you say something? And do you mind if I cut in or would you prefer to continue what seems to be a private conversation with yourself?"

She could have cheerfully fallen on her own sword at that moment as Luke Castellan, the very guy she'd been – **_Looking for? Avoiding? Longing to see? HISSING TO HERSELF ABOUT?!_** sat down beside her.

He was wearing a soft, maroon long-sleeved top which emphasised the breadth of his shoulders, his well-muscled arms and trim waist. Admittedly Camp Half-blood was bursting with guys and girls in peak physical condition. But there was something special about Luke Castellan. On the surface, there was the easy way he ran his hands through his hair, his cocky smirk, his sense of humour. And beneath that, there was a deeper sense of someone who'd looked danger in the eye, who had a faint darkness, a hurt buried deep that was somehow intoxicating to half the females at camp. If rumours were true, there'd been quite a few daughters of Aphrodite who'd swooned over the way he looked, walked, talked and even **_breathed _**probably_._

_ But she knew the truth about any darkness in Luke's past didn't she? She'd been there. She'd seen his mother that he resented, the father who was never there; had eaten chocolate chip cookies at his kitchen table. He'd been sad and angry, but most demigods were in some way or another. And they'd had their own new family. Him, Her and Thalia. They were enough for each other._

With him sitting next to her, she couldn't help inhaling the clean scent of his skin, the musky tones of his aftershave and the sweet, slightly smoky smell of smores that clung to his clothes. Despite these distractions and her own private thoughts, she tried to reply:

"Most polite people wait for their question answered or an invitation to be actually extended before they permit themselves to intrude on another's personal space" says her brain.

But the sound that comes out of her mouth sounds more like "ughnnnmmmhumph"

_Hmmmmm. What was that supposed to mean?_

Luke mentally debated whether he should

a) Laugh out loud, long and hard

b) Ask her if she was trying to communicate with a new species of walrus

c) Be polite and ignore it because you don't want to know

Somehow, he thought that options A and B wouldn't win him any brownie points. Option C it was then. He especially doesn't want to know if that strange muffled yelp was girl code for Please Go Away.

Thankfully it seemed to take Annabeth the same amount of time to recover from her "ughmmmhumph" moment. Her cheeks were flaming red and he didn't think the fire was to blame.

"So…" he starts off, casting around frantically for a suitable topic to start off this conversation that doesn't end up making him look like an idiot. Instead he blurts out "What do you think of Percy Jackson?"

Though distinctly un-suave, this question is sufficiently random enough that it seems to startle Annabeth back into a mental mode where normal conversation is possible.

"Erm…He's a nice guy? He seems to be getting on well with Grover. It's so sad about his mother though isn't it? Grover told me what happened earlier."

"Oh. Yeah he is. He seems…nice. I think he'll make a good addition to our team once he's had a bit more training. He has the instincts for it."

_WHY WHY WHY was he praising Percy Jackson of all people? And how could Percy even be playing the sympathy card with Annabeth because of his mother? Not that it wasn't sad or anything. But STILL! That was low._

"So uh…do you like him or anything?" _Oh yes, because he just had to carry on putting his foot in his mouth. _

"What, you mean like him romantically? I barely know him. Why are you even asking me that?"

**_YES!_**_ I mean…good. Because he's all wrong for her. Even if I wasn't falling for her he'd be wrong for her. He's too…young. Yes that's it. Inexperienced and naïve. _

"Oh no reason." He replies aloud airily. "Just that Grover seems to think he has a crush on you".

"Hmmmm" is all she says, but she gives him a look that is distinctly sceptical.

"Anyway", he rushes on before he can make an even bigger mess of things, "I came to tell you that today you fought better than I've ever seen you. You surprised me and I had to let you know how amazing you were." The words are sincere and he can't help but smile as she glows in response to his whole-hearted praise.

"I still lost though."

"Give it time. And honestly, I only resorted to faking tiredness because you almost got me. If I hadn't and you'd stayed cool-headed, you might have won." He admits in a rare burst of humility.

"Really? Do you honestly think so?" She's looking up at him with those huge, grey eyes and there's a twisting in his gut and a pounding in his chest as he takes in her wide-eyed stare, the smoothness of her skin, and her thick blonde hair shining in the firelight.

"Yes. I do. I just hope there'll never be a time you'll never turn your blade on me for real." He answers honestly. He knows she can tell he's being truthful because she breaks into a radiant, proud smile. It lights up every corner of him in ways a camp-fire never can. Still smiling, she raises a hand to brush her hair back from her face, and he notices the knuckles on her right hand, her sword hand, are bruised, slightly discoloured and swollen with a few scratches where his sword broke the skin. Before he can stop himself, he's already reached out and caught her hand in his.

Gently, he caught her hand in his, turning it so her knuckles faced up. "Did I do that today?" he asked her. The touch of his hand as it warmed hers was making it inordinately hard to form a coherent sentence. His palm and long fingers were callused, his grip steady but gentle as the pad of his thumb started to softly stroke along the edge of her hand. Somewhat shell-shocked, Annabeth opted for a simple nod.

"Can I kiss it better?"

In shock, she managed to tear her eyes away from their clasped hands, only to be frozen into place by his eyes, now blue pools of contriteness that were threatening to suck her in. Without breaking their locked gaze, Luke slowly raised her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss onto the bruised skin of her knuckles.

Even after he'd lowered her hand, still keeping it in his though, she could feel the imprint of his soft lips against her knuckles. How could such a soft, innocent touch leave her burning up inside? Remembering finally that she had to breathe to remain conscious, she inhaled, trying to calm her heart which felt like a speeding train.

But Luke was looking at her, head slightly lowered as if he was ashamed…or afraid? His eyes were wary and vulnerable, like a wary animal, but filled with unspoken longing as he looked at her.

"I – I'm sorry" he stuttered. _Luke Castellan, Mr-Smooth-As-Silk STUTTERING?_

"Look, if you don't want me to…If I'm only a brother to you, just tell me. I just had to let you know that I've fallen for you. I had to try or regret it for the rest of my life. I didn't mean for this to happen. But somehow, some time ago, every time I looked at you I saw a beautiful girl. But you're not just pretty. You're brave and smart and fearless. And you mean so much to me. And I realised, I didn't want to hold only part of your heart, I wanted the whole of your heart for myself. I couldn't bear it…. Annabeth….Please…Just say something. Tell me what you want. If it's not me, then that's alright too…Just please…say something."

Those words and that look, vulnerable and broken, hopeful and longing all at the same time was doing strange things to her insides and her ability to draw breath. The firelight was glinting off his sculpted cheekbones and his chiselled jaw, turning his hair into a shifting pool of gold. How long had he been hiding this side of him from her? When had things changed between them? And how had she realised that her feelings for him were something entirely different now. So instead of answering, she placed her hand against his cheek, feeling him shudder under her touch, before pulling him into a real kiss.

This time there was nothing timid as Luke's warm mouth met hers, forcefully moving over her lips before she opened her mouth with a moan, to feel his tongue instantly slip between her lips. His arms came around her, holding her tightly as she melted into his firm embrace. Her hand was still on his cheek and she buried it in his hair, running her fingers through it as their tongues battled for dominance, weaving and twisting, thrusting and retreating. He broke the kiss long enough to trail a line of kisses down her jaw and neck, igniting a fiery trail along her skin as she arched her back. He swiftly returned back to her mouth, his hands now tenderly cradling her head as he deepened their kiss, making every heightened nerve in her body sing. She could feel the beat answering the rhythm of hers, pounding inside the confines of his chest.

Suddenly, a loud cracking sound followed by a shower of flames and sparks erupted as a barrel of mean fell into the fire, causing them to pull away from each other, startled. Still panting, she gazed up at him, momentarily disorientated. His face held a similar dazed expression, as if he couldn't believe what had just happened between them. The sounds of laughter, cutlery and revelry were slowly intruding into her pleasantly euphoric sate. Gathering her wits, she reluctantly broke out of his embrace before glancing over at the wall of fire beside them. Thankfully, the huge blaze had acted as a screen, she was sure no one else had seen their passionate embrace, but that didn't mean this secluded corner would be forever empty. As the party-goers gathered their second wind, it was only a matter of time before someone stumbled across them.

"It's not safe here. Anyone might come around and see."

He tenderly stroked her face and hair before sighing. "Yes you're right." Regretfully, he scooted further away from her on the log they were sharing but kept his warm gaze fixed firmly on hers.

"Annabeth, I need to talk to you about some important things. I was actually going to try and tell you earlier, but I got a little…distracted. I just couldn't keep it in any longer, how I felt about you. But I also need your advice and here may not be the best place. It's not exactly private. Can we go somewhere else for a while? Annabeth, do you trust me?"

At those words 'somewhere else' and 'private' her mouth seemed to go dry. It was probably a _very _bad idea to go off with a guy she'd just kissed minutes after the fact to somewhere she didn't know in the middle of the night. But, she bit her lip, this was _Luke_. Her rescuer and protector. He'd never do anything that could hurt her, she was sure of it. Looking up at him and his earnest, pleading expression she made her decision.

"Yes. I trust you. Now where can we go?"

A huge smile broke out on his face, this time simply happiness.

"Wait here and give me ten minutes. I need to get some things ok?"

Annabeth drew her knees up to her chest and waited. She couldn't stop going over that kiss in her mind as she touched her fingers to her still tingling lips.

"Pssst" a voice hissed from the bushes behind her. Startled she leapt up and almost fell, only to see Luke's elfin face peering out at her.

"Come on!"

"No! Not till you tell me why you're lurking in that thicket. You almost scared me to death!" She crossed her arms across her chest to show him she meant business, raising an eyebrow as well for good measure.

At that he rolled his eyes good-naturedly, before opening the backpack he was carrying and tossing her…a shoebox?

Surprised and somewhat suspicious, she looked at him searchingly before gingerly opening it. Inside, was a pair of converse high-top sneakers? A pair of sneakers with **_wings_**. As she looked dubiously at them, the wings at the heels of the top shoe started flapping slowly, seemingly trying to escape from the box. Startled, she quickly slapped the lid back on the box before turning to Luke.

"Filched you an extra pair from the Hermes Cabin," he explained with a shrug, "piece of cake."

"Is that all you lot can do? Steal from each other?" she asks with a disapproving frown. Children of Athena have much more useful and stimulating pursuits than kleptomania.

Luke however seems to feel no such qualms.

"Well come on!" he says, his mischievous smirk now back in full force and his eyes twinkling with laughter, "We're going on a short flight. Now follow me, we have to teach you how to get off the ground."


End file.
